Valentine's Vignettes
by civilwarrose
Summary: A series of romance scenes involving various Beauty and the Beast characters. Belle still dreams of Beast. A widowed maid commiserates with a quirky inventor who makes her laugh. I plan to write on a few other pairings as well.
1. Chapter 1

**Valentine's Vignettes**

**Disney owns Beauty and the Beast and its characters.**

Chapter 1- Winter's Nostalgia

Warmth. Softness.

She was luxuriating in his arms, feeling the softness of chestnut-colored fur as she nuzzled his chest and neck. He was getting the hang of the dance, and his feet and hers synchronized themselves as they twirled throughout the ballroom. She looked into his eyes, brilliant blue, and he averted his gaze, still unsure, still unbelieving of what he wanted so _much_ to believe.

Belle had to help him believe. She snuggled her head deeper into his chest, and gave his enormous paw a gentle, knowing squeeze. She felt his other paw at her back, moving and giving the tiniest caress as a silent answer.

She looked back up at him and he met her eyes with an awkward smile. She gazed up at him with as pure and warm a look as she possibly could express. He took a nervous, deep breath, and averted his eyes again.

Outside the enormous windows of the Great Hall, a few stars could be seen twinkling in the distance. Belle happened to glance over to one of the windows when she spotted her favorite pair of stars in the eastern sky. One bright star, one little star. She and Papa used to look at them every night...

_Papa._

_Where is he? What is he doing?_

_Please, Beast._

_Please, you must let me see Papa. One last time._

_I know you care._

Soon, he was reassuring her, caressing her hair gently, letting her know, that yes- he cared. He cared!

He gave her the Mirror.

_"I release you."_

She raced out of the room in a state of dread and worry for her father. Looking back for a moment at him, she felt in the depth of her chest a strange love, a crazy love, one she could not fathom but it was there, it was real.

Not long afterward, she felt it turn to a knifing pain in her chest as sharp as the knife that had entered his side, piercing her, the pain unbearable...

_Beast!_

* * *

"Beast!"

Belle's eyes flew open, and the gentle light of the cloudy winter morning made her squint a little, and she was aware of the warmth next to her. Adam's back was to hers, and he was fast asleep.

He didn't hear her. She was so grateful he did not hear her shout in her sleep once again.

His light, reddish-gold hair was tangled a bit, streaming down his back, and she remembered how similar the color was...

Belle sat up and leaned to look at his face. He was snoring slightly, and his eyes twitched. Was he dreaming too?

There was a bit of golden stubble on his chin and upper lip. She touched his shoulder, her fingers tracing the mole on it she was so fond of. He continued sleeping.

Belle sat up, pushed her long hair around one shoulder, and looked out the enormous bedroom window at the gently falling snowflakes. It was February, St. Valentine's Day.

One year ago, she had spent this day in the library, reading through _Romeo and Juliet_ with him. She clearly remembered the details of that particular day, just one day during that whole magical winter. Mrs. Potts had brought them a tray of sweet little heart shaped cookies, crisp and delicious. He had gotten cookie crumbs in the fur of his chin. She had grinned at him; gesturing to her own chin, and his blue eyes got that adorable embarrassed look again as he brushed them off with his paw.

Belle smiled at the memory.

_Oh, Beast. I do miss you sometimes. _

_I miss that winter. It was the most special winter of my entire life. _

She sat there for several minutes, not disturbing her husband as he slept. After a while, he stirred, yawning and turning around to open those brilliant blue eyes- Beast's eyes, she remembered- blinking and fixing them on hers drowsily.

"Good morning," he croaked. "What day is today? I slept late again- I can't remember if I am to travel today... or is it tomorrow to Metz and Nancy?" he asked her, slightly confused.

He honestly disliked some of the required duties of a prince. It wasn't from any selfishness or laziness; he hoped the people in the principality would never think that of him. On the contrary, it felt plain awkward for him to meet with other nobles or city leaders he met along the way. He was inexperienced talking about things political and financial that he had to learn so late in life, a result of his years spent in isolation.

"Tomorrow, Adam. Today is free to spend with us. And it is the fourteenth today. Happy St. Valentine's Day!" Belle smoothed the locks of his hair from his face and gave him a good-morning peck on the cheek.

"That means those Valentine's cookies!" he said, perking up. "The heart shaped ones. I think I can smell the cooks preparing them now." He leaned toward Belle and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

Belle studied him in quiet reflection. There was still a pure innocence about him that all the other princes, dukes and counts in France definitely lacked. Only she, he, Maurice and the servants knew why, and that secret was never shared outside their circle.

He dressed quickly and noticed her looking at him, nearly tripping over a trouser leg.

"You're staring at me," he said in mock irritation, his eyes twinkling in jest.

"I can't help it."

"You used to stare at the Beast, didn't you?"

Belle averted her eyes and shrugged with an undecided "Hmmm." She absentmindedly reached for her copy of tales by Charles Perrault.

She stretched her arms, the little dog-eared volume in her right hand, and got up to choose a dress from her favorite wardrobe, a wardrobe that resembled the one her lady in waiting, Elodie LaGrande, affectionately known as Madame de la Grande Bouche, used to be.

Her eyes landed on the dress she had worn one year ago this day. The pink one.

An angry voice growled behind her. "Not again! He's riding Florian and that horse needs to be rested today for the carriage ride tomorrow! Confound it, Lumiere!" Adam was looking out the window, catching the _maitre d' _enjoying a morning ride through the snow covered grounds.

Belle could still hear the tone and timbre whenever Adam got angry or flustered like that.

He still had a little bit of her Beast within him, and she loved it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Tea and Memories

"Are we gonna live happily ever after, Mama?"

Mrs. Potts embraced her little blond-headed son, Chip, as they watched Belle and Adam waltzing in a celebratory dance around the ballroom, circled by the crowd of newly-human servants. One newcomer stood at her side, the girl's father. He had just arrived here from his village, after recovering from a terrible week of ordeal and illness.

She gave him a polite smile as he stepped a little closer to the pair of them.

"Her mother is smiling down from heaven today, that is all I can say," he muttered to no one in particular, his voice croaking from emotion.

"Tis true, I believe it in all my heart," Mrs. Potts replied in agreement. Maurice looked at her, a little startled and embarrassed to say that private thought out loud. He then realized that the woman's voice sounded familiar from the time he had first stumbled into the castle.

"I...I've met you before, haven't I?"

"Monsieur, don't you remember? My mama was the teapot!" Chip exclaimed, giving Maurice a chipped-tooth grin.

"Oh, yes! How can I forget, Madame? Do...uh, can...you still make tea?" he asked her a little tentatively. He had certainly remembered the friendly, talking teapot. Never in his life had he dealt with the experience of speaking to a lady who he had first met as a kitchen tool. She had bright blue eyes which crinkled at the corners, and pretty lips. He guessed her to be roughly late fifties to sixty, just as he was. She nodded and smiled.

"I most certainly can," she answered him. "Come to the dining hall in the morning, I will have a pot brewing and croissants freshly made."

That night, Maurice went to sleep in one of the many rooms in the East Wing, feeling like a welcome guest. He felt safe and accepted here. His little girl had fallen in love with a prince who had been that monstrous Beast, the butler had been a candle holder, the majordomo a clock, and this pleasing lady he had reacquainted with had been a teapot. Yet all was perfectly happy and normal, and no one was worried about being dragged to any sort of insane asylum.

As he slept that night, he had one of his rare but cherished dreams of meeting with his late wife, Helene, again. He was walking along the busy streets of Troyes, where he had lived and studied in school in his youth, and where he had met and married Helene, the daughter of a doctor. Belle had been born in Troyes, in their little cramped roominghouse in the city, not far from the Cathedral.

In Maurice's dream, he was still in his sparse sitting room in their old home, and then he went downstairs, out into the streets, and towards the entrance of the Cathedral. As he walked along, a figure of a lady in a rose-pink dress and white bonnet approached him. As they came near each other, the lady lifted back the floppy, ruffled brim of her bonnet, and it would always be Helene, just as she looked when he had first met her, in the long-gone world of their youth. He was always amazed of how much she resembled Belle in the present; the same shape of face, although her hair was a much fairer shade of brown, almost golden, and her eyes a lighter shade of hazel. She smiled warmly at him after lifting her bonnet, and asked, "Are you happy, mon chere?"

"I am happy, but I still miss you," Maurice replied.

"You must not dwell on me so. You must live on, and create your own joy for yourself. Do what you love doing the most," she said quietly, her voice like a long-forgotten song.

Then, she lowered her bonnet over her face, and turned and ran away, as if she had so many things to do in her afterlife. Maurice called out to her, he wanted to tell her that her daughter was in a castle, she was going to marry a prince, but Helene had already left before he could tell her the story.

And then he woke up.

That morning, after checking the castle's firewood supply for the stoves and fireplaces, and realizing that this place would be in definite need of his patent-model Wood-Chopper, Maurice found Mrs. Potts in the dining hall. Groups of happy servants were bustling about, some taking tea breaks in the various tables. He felt out of place as he walked toward her table, but a group of maids waved at him and greeted him cheerily.

"Good morning Monsieur! You're Belle's papa! Sit down and be our guest!" one of the young women called to him.

"Good morning," said Mrs. Potts. "Do sit down, and have a spot of tea, as you are certainly honored. Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied, as she poured him a cup and stirred in cream and sugar. "Why am I such an honored guest, may I ask?"

"You must remember last autumn, when you arrived. If it were not for you coming here, and your daughter following soon after to find you, we would still be in a dreadfully sad predicament, I'm afraid. We consider you our hero, as much as we consider dear Belle our heroine." Mrs. Potts gave him the same warm smile as she had given him the previous day. "I am Mrs. Potts. I don't believe I got your name, Monsieur."

"Maurice DeFleur." he answered politely. He stirred his tea, and took a drink. "This tea is delicious. I have never tried anything like it before."

"It is Earl Grey's. The best from England, my homeland."

"I have never met anyone from England before. What brought you to France?"

"My late husband and I came here for a chance to raise Chip in peace and quiet in this remote French palace, we had heard of it from an old relative, and felt the need to leave dirty, noisy London behind. We were very happy, for the most part. Chip was our adopted grandson. Our daughter died shortly after giving birth to him, so I felt the need to go away, start anew. But soon after we began serving here, my husband...died in the epidemic of 1757. I...I'm sorry, I mustn't be telling you my whole life story, now." She lowered her eyes pensively, and took a sip of her tea.

Maurice's eyes widened. "It's all right. I don't mind hearing of it at all. I am terribly sorry about your husband, and your daughter," he told her reassuringly. "Did- did you say the epidemic of 1757?"

"Yes. It was when tuberculosis swept through the castle. Adam's parents died, and a few of the servants, including my husband Nicholas."

Maurice felt a chilling shock pierce through his heart. The sad memories came back front and center, and he felt tears sting his eyes. _Helene_. It was the same year. The same cruel epidemic, and he thanked the heavens that little Belle had been spared.

"Is something troubling you, Mssr. DeFleur?"

"I- my wife. My wife died when disease swept through Troyes in 1757- the same year. It was when Belle was just about to turn seven. We never had a chance to...have any other children."

"I am so sorry," she said quietly. "She would be so proud of Belle now."

Mrs. Potts stretched out her hand and patted Maurice's gently. It was a chaste gesture, full of compassion, but just the touch of a lady's hand on his, the first time in thirteen years- caused his heart to flutter with giddy happiness. Stop it, he thought. Stop being a crazy old fool!

He tried to steer the subject away from the past and its grief.

"Hey, I notice the castle needs a lot of firewood for things to keep running every day. I think you would like my invention. A wood-chopping machine."

"A wood chopping machine? You are an inventor? Just like the honorable Mr. Franklin from the American colonies, or the great Leonardo?" Her face brightened with an admiring smile.

"Well, not as great as them, but I, well...I try. I wanted to enter the wood chopper in a fair, but I didn't quite make it." He laughed out loud.

"And why didn't you enter it in the fair, may I ask?"

"I got lost, and ran into a crazy enchanted castle with a Beast instead. Which made me the luckiest man in the world."

At this, Mrs. Potts couldn't help but giggle girlishly. There was something about this man that- even though he was nothing like Nicholas in any way- he was just so...cute.

"You are lucky I suppose, because you may just be the father in law of royalty. Adam is considering a proposal very soon, and that is my secret, do not tell," she said matter of factly.

"If so, yes, but I'm also lucky because if I had made it to the inventors' fair, I would never have been served by such a charming teapot." He grinned, and held his teacup to her in a gesture of salutation.

One of the maids happened to walk past, carrying a tray of croissants.

"Yvette, could you offer my friend here a croissant? He needs to try the best that our kitchen can cook up." Mrs. Potts' cheeks had turned a rosy hue.

Yvette set the tray before them, and Maurice took one and tasted it. It was buttery and flaky, even better than the ones made by Andre back in the village.

"These are wonderful! Whose recipe is it?"

"It is my recipe. I really hoped you would like them."

"I do! I really do, Madame...Mrs. Potts. Can..." he began to stutter a bit- "c-can I ask you what your given name is, if I am not too forward?"

"It's Emmeline. My relatives back in England sometimes called me Emmie." Her face felt as warm as the cup in her hand.

"It is a great pleasure to spend this morning with you, Emmeline."

"And you as well, Maurice. I do hope we have tea together again."

Their eyes met with shy smiles, and both felt as if they were, like Belle, twenty years old again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Burned by You Before

_AN: A "midquel" chapter, set on the same day that Belle and the Beast were in the library reading "Romeo and Juliet."_

* * *

Lumiere peeked around one of the slightly open doors to the grand library. What he saw made his heart- or whatever was inside the candle holder that was the center of his body - do a flip-flop of excitement. This had been the Master's idea: to present Belle with a gift of the whole library! He could not have thought of a better plan himself!

He heard Belle's voice softly reading out loud, and saw the Master reclining in his chair, listening with an uncharacteristically serene expression on his face. Lumiere was beginning to see that expression more often of late, every time the Master was with Belle, and ever since his injury from the wolves. The tone of Belle's voice told Lumiere that she was sincerely enjoying herself; she was not doing this simply to keep the Master entertained and happy. She now loved his company- and a spark of hope was igniting in all the servants' hearts that Belle was growing to love_ him._

"_Pssssst_! Lumiere! Get out and give them some time alone!" a tense voice whispered behind him.

He turned around to see Cogsworth, his little hands clasped and looking nervous. "We...are...running...out...of...time!" He spat out each word in a hushed but frantic tone.

"Cogsworth, they are coming along just fine! I just wanted to go in and ask them if they needed Mrs. Potts to bring them-"

"We have exactly eighteen days, nine hours, and-" The clock felt the little minute hand on his own face- "fifteen _minutes_ until the last petal falls on the stroke of his twenty-first birthday. She has to be in love with him by then! So we shouldn't be poking around and disturbing the...the-"

"The blossoming of radiant _l'amour_."

"Yes, that. So let's come along, now. Shall we play a game of chess?"

"I would love to later, Cogsworth, but I'm afraid I have my own issues with _l'amour_ that I need to work out," Lumiere confessed to his friend as they tiptoed quietly down the long, dark carpeted hallway away from the library.

Cogsworth gave him a stern look. "Now, I don't wish to be overly optimistic, but you do know, when we- _if_ we become human again next month, you are going to have to choose. Now I am no expert-"

"_Oh-ho_! You can say that again!" Lumiere chided the majordomo. Cogsworth's poor luck with women, whether as a clock or as a man before, was something he loved to tease him about. Cogsworth's clock-face reddened and he glared at him.

"What I was _saying_ was-"

"Spare me your lectures, _mon capitan_. There is only one woman I love here in this castle. Well, two now, counting Mademoiselle Belle, but of course we all adore her! It is Babette Claremboux, the lovely little duster who has stolen my heart over the past several years." He raised his candle-head toward the ceiling and sighed.

"Good, now _that_ is what I wanted to hear. So have you told her that? I have seen the poor girl moping around, almost crying lately."

"Crying? Why could she be so down? Oh, _no_!" He lowered his head. He had to confess to her soon. Babette must have seen him with...

"Because she believes she has competition, so to speak," Cogsworth went on. "You did spend a good deal of time the other day dancing and carrying on with Angelique Noelle, and she seems to be enamoured of you a little also."

_"Angelique?_ The little ornament? Why, we are just friends! She wanted to dance with me when Louis the coat rack was playing his violin, and Babette was off cleaning! Babette is responsible to a fault, and Mademoiselle Angelique was there- so why would I say no?"

Lumiere couldn't hide his guilty look. After he and Angelique had danced in the parlor for a while, the little blonde ornament had jumped up, embraced him while gracefully avoiding his flame-hands, and had given him a kiss right on his waxy lips. Somehow, Babette had found out.

Hmmm...Louis had left the parlor before then...but Sophie and Valerie had still been in the room! He should have known one of the armchairs would go off to tell Babette. They were both good friends of hers. _Sacre Bleu!_

"Hmmm...Lumiere, your charm and flirtatiousness with the ladies is getting you into a predicament. If Angelique has feelings for you, you need to turn her down soon."

Lumiere ran as fast as he could down the hallway, in panic. He had to find either Angelique or Babette, hopefully both very soon, and straighten things out. He smelled roast beef cooking; Thierry the oven was making a nice dinner for the Master and for Belle. He decided to head toward the Master's private formal dining room; he heard a few voices there.

Going across the dining room's marble floor, he heard the voices coming from above him, atop the large table. To his surprise, he realized one of the voices was that of the little Christmas angel-woman ornament. She was giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Hee hee, Konrad, you big 'andsome brute! Let me fill you up to the top, _si vous plait!"_

"_Ja, ja_! Dat champagne it feels so...so _bubbly_! Ha ha ha ha!"

Lumiere hid underneath the table, extinguishing his candles as not to reveal his presence. Konrad? She's flirting with one of those dim-witted Bierstein Brothers?

He was glad his candles were out, because he would have melted his own mouth stifling his snickers with his hands. A snort of laughter escaped his nose, but the sound was fortunately covered up by the bubbling sound of liquid being blown through a straw of sorts, accompanied by Konrad's raucous laughter. It sounded like the beer tankard was filled with champagne and Angelique was blowing into him with a drinking straw and tickling him. Lumiere was a candelabrum, not a beer stein, so he had no idea what that felt like, but still...

He felt relief wash over him when he distinctly heard the sound of lips smooching against a pewter surface. Not to mention a little amusement- didn't Angelique recall what the Bierstein Brothers looked like as humans? They were four hundred pounds each, he fathomed, and far from "'andsome."

Lumiere slipped out of the dining room silently. He passed a box of small, tea-light candles in the corner, and, in a stroke of creativity, decided to grab as many of them as he could. He brought them to the floor of the Great Hall, and arranged them in a little circle.

_Non, not a circle! Silly me, it is Valentine's Day_, he thought.

He scampered back to the box of candles in the dining room- Angelique and her beer-tankard friend were still laughing maniacally - and filled his metallic arms with more tea-lights. He returned to the floor of the Great Hall and arranged all of them into the shape of a heart, about five feet in diameter.

Just then, he saw Cogsworth patrolling past, still trying to keep the rest of the Objects from disturbing Belle and the Beast in the library. Late afternoon had given over to twilight, and the two would eventually be leaving the library and going to dinner.

"_Pssst_! Cogsworth! Can you go find Babette for me and tell her I have something..."

"What are all those things scattered on the floor? You're making a mess!"

"They're _candles_, you wooden-bottomed retentive!"

"Well, put them back in their proper place soon, you flame-handed philanderer!"

"That is not true!" Lumiere defended himself. "I am not a philanderer, not anymore! My human life was left off long ago. I am a one-woman man. And I have a plan to show Babette my feelings for her!" he exclaimed in a desperate tone. "I was asking you to find her and have her come down! Have you seen her?"

"No, but I know that at five-forty-five, which it is right now, she is usually in the young Mademoiselle's bedchambers, giving it a little dusting. She keeps on schedule just like I do, and unlike _certain_ disorganized -"

"Can you just _find_ her and have her go to the staircase? _Please_."

Cogsworth finally gave up his rant and looked at Lumiere sheepishly. "Why, uh... certainly, Lumiere. You are coming to your senses, I will glad to assist you." He hopped up the stairs as fast as his stubby wooden legs would allow.

Lumiere hopped himself back to the arrangement of tea light candles and quickly lit each one. He waited anxiously for a few minutes, looking up at the top of the grand staircase on the East Wing side. Finally, he spotted a tiny wooden handle form, with a skirt of feathers peeking over the corner.

"Babette!" he called up to her.

"Lumiere?"

"Babette! Happy Valentine's Day! I LOVE YOU!" he shouted loudly, standing in the middle of the heart made of candles, his arms raised and candles flaming brightly. Darkness falling in the Great Hall's windows made him and his creation a beautiful, glowing sight.

The petite duster's face brightened. "Oh, Francois!" She jumped on the banister and slid down merrily.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeee!"

Lumiere snuffed out his hand candles and jumped to catch her as she came off the banister, and they tumbled to the floor, embracing.

"You are the only girl for me, _cherie._ You must know that."

"I know now. It's just hard to believe! I am only one of many feather dusters. How can you even tell us apart? There's Pauline, Natalie, Juliette..."

"You are the only one with those enchanting eyes and that lovely little beauty mark on your cheek," Lumiere pointed out. "The one I have spent the most time with, the one who has been my constant companion all these years - well, besides Cogsworth, of course! You are my dream girl, Babette! And I cannot wait to see what a ravishing woman you will become when the spell is broken!"

Babette felt self-conscious at this. She had not been a great beauty before the spell. She thought of herself as a tiny, skinny, mousy little thing with no hint of a womanly figure.

"You do remember what I looked like before?"

"But of _course_! You were a pretty girl. And ten years have passed. I admit before the spell, I might have thought of you as no more than a girl. But you will be grown to a woman, you see?"

"I see," she said, smiling up at him hopefully.

"And speaking of breaking the spell, look who's coming!" Lumiere pointed to the library doors. Belle and the Beast had finally come out, ready to partake in dinner. They both saw the heart formation of candles on the floor, and Belle smiled in amusement.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Master and Mademoiselle!" Lumiere and Babette shouted in unison.

"Thank you, Lumiere and Babette! That is so sweet! And Happy Valentine's Day to you both!" replied Belle.

Beast said nothing, but he had a dopey look on his face, his enormous paw settled gently on Belle's petite shoulder.

Lumiere and Babette embraced and kissed as carefully as they could, both very optimistic for the weeks ahead. They followed the Beast and Belle back towards the dining room, eager to help serve them during dinner if they needed them.

Babette leaned on Lumiere and grinned. "The latest news is that _you_ are no longer the biggest flirt in the castle."

"Oh really?" he asked, his eyebrow raised. "May I ask who is?" He wondered if she already knew about what had gone on in the dining room.

"Angelique!" she blurted out, giggling. "She has no more interest in you than she does those big beer steins. I hope that doesn't break your heart, Francois."

Lumiere rolled his eyes to the ceiling and put a candle-hand to his chest. "Oh, I might never survive the anguish!" he exclaimed in feigned drama.

Cogsworth joined the two in the dining room, and Mrs. Potts' tea cart, with herself and Chip perched upon it, rolled in. They stayed in the corner, quietly observing the Master and Belle as they were sitting down to a scrumptious meal.

Beast noticed his servants waiting. "I don't need any help. Can we just be _alone_, please!" he growled.

They obediently left the room, looking for other things to do.

"Just splendid, my friends! Just splendid! It's going along just as we hoped!" Cogsworth exclaimed in excitement, as his friends nodded in the hope for what was to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- The Majordomo and the Nanny

"I must say, Mademoiselle Davis, that you certainly _are_ making the children happy, and you're keeping them from being underfoot and disturbing the rest of the staff," Cogsworth was proclaiming. "However- if you will pardon me saying this, Mademoiselle - but _I_ feel they need to pull their weight more in manual labor and cleaning, as they are the offspring of servants, not peers of Master Adam."

Pippa Davis, the niece of Mrs. Potts and a recent arrival from London, crossed her arms and glared at Cogsworth.

"Mr. Cogsworth, is it necessary to use the children as cheap labor when they need to be educated and be given free time to pursue their dreams? Times are changing, dear Mr. Cogsworth."

"But Mademoiselle, there needs to be order! And discipline! And to know their place in the-" He was unable to maintain a stern expression as he said this; his words trailed off, and he looked embarrassed.

"Just because their parents were servants of this castle does not mean they must grow up to be servants here as well," the nanny argued. "Mirielle just might become be a teacher, or author, she is very intelligent and well read, much like Mistress Belle. And Chip! He has such a sense of adventure, he may not want to stay here when he grows up. Their futures shouldn't be set before they even begin!" She turned away from Cogsworth and walked down the Great Hall, to the main staircase.

Pippa was annoyed but also a little worried. She knew she shouldn't argue with the majordomo. But when she had signed on to travel all the way to France at her Aunt Emmeline's urging, she had agreed she would follow what Aunt Emmeline desired best for the raising and care of Chip. She was also caring for the servant girl Mirielle, who at eleven was not old enough to be worked full time.

She hadn't known she would have another pompous boss putting in his twopence worth. This man was exasperating! He was bossy, he tried to control her, but he was charming in his own fussy way...and he made her laugh...

Pippa tried to remain annoyed, but just couldn't. Cogsworth was, well- Pippa hated to admit it- attractive to her. She had always had a fondness for teddy-bear like, rotund men. George A. Cogsworth was ten years her senior, balding and stout, and he went about the castle constantly expecting perfection from the servants with a formal and uptight air. The servants often gave him lip service, and then did their own thing when the Englishman wasn't looking.

Despite this, Pippa could see a definite vulnerability about him. He looked at her with a fondness and sweetness, and acted odd around her as of late, either flustered when he told her what to do, or attempting to be funny. He had told her some corny puns and jokes at Prince Adam and Belle's wedding ball, when she had danced with him. He had allowed her to see into the real, lovable George Cogsworth underneath the fussy exterior, and since she had only arrived at the castle just before the royal wedding, she wasn't certain yet if she was the only person who he related to that way.

Pippa headed up the East Wing's stairs, hoping to be alone in her room to sketch in her sketchbook or paint, as she enjoyed creating artwork. It was something she spent much time teaching the two children as of late. She came to the landing and headed toward her bedroom door. She heard footsteps, and realized someone was following her.

Turning around, she discovered it was Cogsworth. She was immediately worried. Was she in trouble? Had she overstepped her bounds and challenged his authority? Did he have authority over her that could cause her to lose her position? Her heart started to beat faster with nervousness.

"I am sorry, Mr. Cogsworth," she said hastily. "I- I shouldn't have argued with you."

"It is quite all right, Mademoiselle. People here _love_ to argue with me. It's practically part of their job description!" Cogsworth said wryly. "Look at Lumiere, for example. He spends more time quarreling with me than serving the wine and meals. In fact, before you came here, with circumstances as they were-" He stopped in mid-sentence, and seemed to pale a little.

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing! Just a little- indigestion. I had a little too much roasted chicken tonight, it's my favorite," He patted his round belly and gave a nervous chuckle. "I was just saying, that Lumiere has been trying to shirk his duties and defy my directions long before you came. In fact, your arguing with me makes it clear that you fit in perfectly as a member of our staff," he added with a chuckle.

"So you are not angry with me, and you don't wish to terminate me?"

Cogsworth gasped and looked at her in shock. "Mademoiselle Davis, how on earth could I want to terminate you? You...you are the...the.."

"The what?"

"The best nanny that little Charles Potts and young Mirielle could ever ask for."

"But you _just_ said that I was too lenient with the children. That I should make them do more manual cleaning and chores," Pippa said in confusion. "How can you now say I am the best?"

"I...I changed my mind." Suddenly, Cogsworth's expression was like that of a penitent little boy. He averted his eyes from her. Apparently, the majordomo was all bark and no bite, at least with certain people.

"So do you _want_ me to make them do more chores, or shall I continue to give them painting lessons, play games with them, and let them frolic around outdoors as I have been doing?"

"Just carry on as before. And I will keep taking them in the mornings for tutoring. But, when they are with _me_ tutoring, part of their education will also involve cleaning up the constant mess in the library. And perhaps...I will put them to work in the kitchen. Starting today."

"What?"

"So you can have a break to yourself for an hour or so during the day. I would very much like to see more of your artistic masterpieces."

He gave her an awkward smile, and headed back downstairs.

Pippa's eyes softened toward him and she shook her head. _This_ _man_ _is_ _impossible_!

But then, she decided it wouldn't hurt the children to help out with chores more. Chip, after all, thought some chores were like play anyway. She went to her room to draw in her sketchbook.

...

Cogsworth was trying hard not to show it, but his heart was hammering so hard within his chest he was certain she could hear it. Just the close proximity to her and seeing her blue eyes meeting his was all it took. He chastised himself for the remarks he had made about wanting her to make the children work more. He had made the comment not because he really felt she was being incompetent, but because he wanted to, in a way, impress her with his importance as a senior member of the staff. To make her think he was, well..._distinguished_ here in this castle. Maybe manly, in a way.

But in the next moment, he had realized that she had her own ideas on the care of the children, and he was probably stepping on Mrs. Potts' toes. After all, Pippa was only following what her Aunt Emmeline wanted for the children, and Cogsworth didn't wish to be on the receiving end of the two women's scorn. No, that was the last thing he wanted.

Pippa was the only woman who looked at him with a hint of admiration, the only one who had danced with him at the royal wedding ball just last week, and the only one who laughed at his dry wit and terrible puns. She was turning into his favorite colleague, his friend, and...and- _oh_, _blast_ _it_ _to_ _hell_! -the only possibility of a romantic prospect he would ever have if he continued to live in this castle, overseeing the other servants as he had done for so long.

Cogsworth went into the library, where the eleven-year-old servant girl Mirielle, a pretty youngster with light brown hair and brown eyes, sat quietly holding a book and a sheet of paper and quill pen.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle. Now, can you tell me three reasons why the Spanish conquistadors wished to invade South America and Mexico over two centuries ago?"

Mirielle answered immediately, glancing at her notes a little. "One main reason was to establish trade routes. Some also believed gold was in the Americas. The second reason was they wanted to claim as much as the New World for Spain as they could. They did succeed; after all, they _do_ have a much bigger section of the Americas than either France or England do now."

"Very good, Mirielle. Those are two reasons. What is the-"

"And I'm afraid, Monsieur Cogsworth, _speaking_ of England's part of the claim, if things don't change soon, and if England's king continues to tax his colonists without..."

"Mirielle, I was asking for the third reason Spain conquered the Americas. I was not asking your opinion on the King of England," Cogsworth said to the young girl in a didactic tone.

Mirielle smiled. "Sorry, Monsieur. The third reason was to do away with the pagan rituals of the Aztecs, Mayans and Incas, who practiced horrid human sacrifice, and institute Christianity."

"Very good."

"Do you want to know the terrible things the Incas did to their children?" Mirielle said in a distraught tone, tears in her eyes. She grabbed a book on the table and began to thumb through it. "I read that they-"

"Mirielle, you can read on that on your own time. I am pleased you finished your history for today. Now on to arithmetic."

The girl sighed. Math was the subject she was the least passionate about. On the other hand, numbers would get her mind off the tragic history she had just read. For the next few minutes, Cogsworth examined her paper filled with addition and subtraction problems, correcting three out of twenty. He gave her twenty more to do, then sat quietly in one chair as his student sat in another, her scratching quill the only sound in the room. Outside the library doors came the muffled din of dishes being set and maids' constant chatter in the dining hall.

His thoughts wandered as he sat there for another twenty minutes. They naturally went to Pippa.

He had met her less than two weeks ago. That night she had first arrived on the coach, he hadn't thought much about her at first. He had just been glad that Mrs. Potts would now have help with the children, and that her beloved niece had joined her in France. But as they conversed later that evening, along with Mrs. Potts and Maurice, over tea and scones, he just could not keep his eyes off the young woman.

She had taken off her cloak and bonnet, and he was struck by the color of her chestnut red hair and matching freckles. She even had freckles on her ivory forearms. Underneath her modest black dress, her figure was undeniably voluptuous and womanly. Her speech and manner was cultured, her voice like a melody; it reminded him of home and the girls he had known in his youth. Where had she _been_ all this time? And why on earth was she still single in her thirties? Good God, a man would be insane not to have snatched her up by now. He was glad no one had done such, he mused as the young girl scratched away on her schoolwork.

He had decided to follow Lumiere's example and try to be as charming as he could around her. He would try out his jokes, and be funny. That actually seemed to work with her. She did giggle at him when they danced at the ball. What a magical night it had been! The centerpiece of that whole evening was the Master and Belle, and their much awaited matrimony, but he had never dreamed he would be enjoying the night as much as he did with the new nanny.

_Oh, George Cogsworth, calm your foolish heart. And __don't be a pompous old curmudgeon around this beautiful woman. Oh, Phillipa..._

The grandfather clock in the library chimed nine times. Mirielle got out of her chair, and little Chip Potts entered, still eating a large baguette.

The next half hour dragged as he taught Chip his numbers. Then, as he had announced to Pippa, he ordered the two children to help out the maids by wiping all the tables in the dining room. Chip seemed to have fun with it, and Mirielle was obedient enough. He couldn't wait to tell Pippa that his compromise with her was working.

All that time, he hoped she was enjoying herself up in her room.

The clock chimed ten. He was leaving the dining hall, going into the Great Hall, when he saw her heading down the stairs.

She smiled at him gently as they passed each other at the bottom of the staircase. She was standing right at the spot where not long ago, Cogsworth had worn an admiral's hat and fought against a villager who'd been attacking Lumiere. He wished Pippa had seen him so valiant in battle.

"Did they work hard for you, Monsieur?"

"Yes! Yes they did, Mademoiselle. They had a good time of it also. You see, children need a balance of work and play. It is ideal for the development of young minds. And those two certainly do have bright minds."

"I can agree on that," she answered him, as they shared a warm smile, then both shyly averted their eyes from each other.

Pippa went toward the dining room to oversee the children, and Cogsworth headed upstairs to check on the maids' work and then have a little rest if he could. As he trotted upstairs happily, he tried to imagine what Pippa would have been turned into if she had been in the castle when the Enchantress cursed the household.

He decided she would have been a pillow. A soft, warm satin pillow the color of fire, that he could have laid his head on in front of the hearth in the Master's sitting room.

Cogsworth chuckled to himself. He knew he was being silly, but he liked imagining it.


End file.
